Debriefing
by Elektra3
Summary: Written for marymuse for the Yuletide 2006 challenge. 'Here's how it ends: Blood, pain, and a hole in the gut. I don't normally stick around for the messy end, but you... Oh, sugar, you've earned it.'


Disclaimer: Surreal belongs to Anne Bishop. The poor bastard she's... er, chatting with, however, belongs to me.

- - -

Here's how it ends: Blood, pain, and a hole in the gut. I don't normally stick around for the messy end, but you … Oh, sugar, you've _earned_ it.

You did a damn good job of roping me in, I'll give you that. You even looked and felt the part. All trembling outrage under about three feet of stoic outrage, and your story… yeah, that made sense too. Sister gets conned into a _very_ intimate arrangement with the Territory Queen's brother? Doesn't matter _why_ he was able to convince her that she should let herself be used as his toy; all that matters is that someone had power, and someone else got screwed. You see it all the time. But you knew that, didn't you? You knew that if you gave me a motive for wanting him dead that was likely to be true, I wouldn't look too hard at why you _really_ wanted me to make Lord Tall, Dark, and Soon-to-be-Dead's heart – and brain and intestines and various other goodies – explode. And it didn't exactly hurt that our target had a history of doing just what you described, or that his latest plaything came from a family with some very large gambling debts. Did you personally arrange for the family to rack up all those debts, or did you just take advantage of a convenient situation? Either way, sugar, I'm impressed. If I wasn't so busy sharpening my knives, I'd give you a round of applause.

Now, now, don't squirm like that. It's rude to fidget when someone else is talking.

So where was I? Oh, yeah. Attention to detail. That's what sets us apart from the ordinary liars – you don't mind if I call you a liar, do you, sugar? Names are such touchy things, and I wouldn't want to offend you. Tell you what – since your throat is probably worn out from all that screaming, I won't make you say yes or no. Just flinch when I stab you in the thigh.

Thanks, sugar. Now, like I was saying, it takes real talent to be a good liar, and even more talent to fool a professional liar. And hell, isn't that exactly what I do? Assassin, whore – all that matters is whether or not I can fool a target long enough, and well enough, to stick them where it counts. But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you? You've arranged to have enough people killed for Hayll's High Bitch to be called an assassin, and you're handsome enough that I wouldn't be surprised if she also made you her whore. I'm probably just boring you with all this shop talk – sugar, sugar, stop looking so damn surprised. When I said you were handsome, I didn't mean you'd be just as pretty even with your eyes bulging out.

Oh, you're surprised that I know who you are and who you work for? Really, sugar, I'm getting more disappointed with you by the second. The man you hired me to kill was one of the only people left in his sister's court with enough spine left to keep her from buckling under Dorothea's "suggestions," and whoever you were working for had to be both rich enough to hire me and have an interest in making the Territory vulnerable to Hayll. It wasn't _that_ hard to figure out.

Who you were – now that was trickier. You did a damn good job of covering your tracks, and I don't say that lightly. Takes real talent to figure out who exactly you need to kill and who you can leave alive, and even more to cover up all _those_ deaths so that it won't be easy to figure out who's behind them. Thing is, though, there's always a trail. Remember what I said earlier about not everyone having the money to afford me? Once I guessed who you were working for… Well, let's just say that with the right inside information, it was just a little matter of elimination. Oh, do you want to know who my source was? Sorry, sugar, that would be telling, and good girls don't kiss and tell. You wouldn't want me to do something that's _wrong_, would you?

But speaking of telling things… I have to say, you made me curious. Why go to all that trouble of trying to fool me? I might have a reputation for turning down contracts that Dorothea offers, but it's not as if I'm the only assassin you could have hired. It wouldn't have been a particularly difficult job; I could rattle off about twenty or so people who could have pulled it off, and that's just off the top of my head. So why oh why would you make such an effort to put one over on little old me?

Unless, of course, my dislike for your boss was the point. She didn't want to get caught, did she? It's fine if someone suspects – anyone with half a brain would be suspicious when one of her more annoying obstacles suddenly dropped dead. But nobody's going to do a damned thing without proof, because who'd be crazy enough to accuse Hayll's High Priestess on the strength of a reasonable suspicion?

With proof, now – that's a different story. There's no law against murder, but a Queen can claim compensation for a lost life. And when the Queen in question is a Territory Queen, and ruler of a Territory as powerful and well-connected as this one, and when the life that was lost is not only her brother but her Master of the Guard… Factoring in all the alliances this Territory has, and Hayll's own alliances, and the fact that anyone who was still uninvolved would throw in with one side or another just to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, you have the makings for all-out war.

'Course, I don't think anyone would let it get that far. But at the very least, Hayll's ambassadors would be kicked out of the opposing territories, and I somehow doubt that that's the outcome Dorothea was looking for.

So what's a power-hungry bitch to do? Use an assassin who's known for not having anything to do with Hayll's High Priestess, and feed her – and a few other rumor starters, am I right? – a story that'll make her and everyone else think that that our oh-so-inconvenient Warlord was killed for reasons that had more to do with his cock than his political ambitions. And there you go: Obstacle removed, but without all that messy slaughter.

Very clever. Hell, it might even have worked if the target's identity hadn't made me suspicious. As it is… Well, you've left me with a little bit of a dilemma. On the one hand, open conflict between Territories would be bad for business. _Both_ of my businesses. On the other hand, I _really_ don't like being hired under false pretenses. So here's what we're going to do. You're going to tell me about every single assassination that you're currently arranging, and I'm going to kill you. And sugar? If you think that the fact that I'm going to kill you regardless of whether or not you cooperate means that you might as well keep your mouth shut, bear in mind that I know all _sorts_ of creative ways to extract information. I'm offering you a choice between having your throat slit, and having your guts cut out with a rusty spoon; pick whichever you like, but I'll get what I want no matter what you choose.

But it's late, and I've got spells to prepare. Why don't we call it a night? Sleep well, and think long and hard about whether we'll do this the hard way, or the easy way.

Sweet dreams, sugar.


End file.
